What A Man Needs
by LiechLiet
Summary: Some things will always be worth more than everything a lord could own. Berwald Oxenstierna would learn that when he fell in love with his new valet, a cheerful Finn named Tino Väinämöinen. But when your life is a strictly-ruled game, what can you do when you fall for someone who isn't playing? / SuFin, DenNor
1. Act I Scene I

_I never limited myself on what to write. To many I was a cold, expressionless man, but every man has feelings inside regardless of his exterior – it was from my hidden feelings that I wrote my first novels. And now it is from feelings, and memories, and out of respect to my best friend, that I write the story of the love of his life._

_His name was Berwald Oxenstierna. A nobleman, landed gentry, with wealth and status. He was the eldest son of a rich lord, and if that wasn't enough to trap the ladies, he was handsome. Oh, he was handsome; hair the colour of fresh wheat, tall, shoulders broad and jaw chiselled. But there was something about it that pushed the women away. Perhaps it was that stony look, or those piercing blue eyes, that seemed to see everything and everyone._

_They didn't. He was short-sighted._

_As he came of age and became one of the most eligible bachelors in society, I, by his side, watched him grow, flourish, fall in love with all the wrong people. And it will be now, as I document his twentieth year, that I let go of my narrative, and become the unbiased third party that I wasn't when these events were taking place._

* * *

**Act I  
Scene I**

* * *

It was during a ball on hot summer night, sky thick with stubborn clouds that trapped the heat, when Berwald Oxenstierna set the wheels of his future in motion.

"I need a new valet."

"Why?" asked his closest friend, a Norwegian nobleman-turned-novelist, Lukas Bondevik, sipping his drink with a long look of utter boredom. Around them, couples waltzed, but to these two, balls were a duty and not a pleasure; neither of them were, how to put it politely, ladies' men. Not at _all._

"Old one left this morning." Berwald was short in his speech, never using more words than necessary – in fact, if he could avoid using words at all, he would.

"Ask Mathias. He'll have a connection somewhere."

'Mathias' was another friend, and a lord, as Berwald was. In many ways, they were similar – tall, broad, blond, proud. Maybe that was why they didn't get along at all. Mathias was on the brash side and often, Berwald found him insufferable.

Lukas was close to Mathias as well, but in an entirely different way. This story is not about that.

"My men!" Out of the crowd came Mathias himself, face split in a huge grin. He threw his arms around the two, much to both of their discomfort, and was soon shoved away.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Lukas said dryly. "Berwald was just talking about finding a new valet."

"And of course you want one from the depths of hell," Mathias teased, quite used to Lukas' blunt rudeness. "I've just heard about a man, actually. A foreigner, in need of work. Belle told me her brother just turned him away." His hand came up to run through his already-wild hair, and the lights of the ballroom glinted on his golden wedding band.

"How fortunate, Berwald, he sounds like just the man for you." Lukas turned his full attention to the Swedish lord. "You should contact him."

"I'm sure he could be ready for work tomorrow morning, if you so wish!" Mathias grinned. "Get a message to him tonight!"

"I don't even know his name," Berwald said quietly. This caused Mathias to start an excited rummage through the pockets of his jacket.

"You were wearing your dress clothes this morning?" Lukas asked with a raised eyebrow, looking faintly disgusted.

"This was handed to me as I walked out the door!" Coming up with a slip of paper, Mathias beamed at Lukas as if the Norwegian was the sole reason for every good thing in his life, then handed the paper to Berwald. "There's his name."

Berwald held it up to the light to read the small, rather sweet handwriting.

_Tino Väinämöinen._

* * *

**A/N: I know, I've been away for so long, and I haven't even updated any of my WIPs, but this idea hit me like a tonne of bricks. It's a short beginning, but what do you think?**


	2. Act I Scene II

**Act I  
Scene II**

* * *

The next morning, Berwald was woken by a bell at barely sunrise. A servant had rushed in to tell him that there was a visitor for him. With no valet and no routine, Berwald ended up being ushered down the stairs in his nightshirt and dressing gown, spectacles hastily balanced on a slightly crooked nose, hair tousled.

There in the entrance hall was a figure – a short man, the top of his head barely level with Berwald's shoulder. It was misleading, however. The man had bright blond hair, like the straw in summer, and his eyes sparkled a deep, warm blue-violet, shining with excitement and hope. He was neatly dressed in blues and whites, his cap striped like that of a summer fair's decoration.

"Lord Oxenstierna!" He sank into a low bow upon Berwald's entrance, bobbing up with a big smile. His lips were full, very pink, and one front tooth was slightly and quite endearingly crooked. "I'm Tino Väinämöinen! And I'm honoured to be able to meet you! I do apologise, I'm so terribly early, but in order to prove my skills as a valet, I have to act the part, do I not? I thought I could prove it to you this very morning!"

Berwald stood still and shocked, watching this enthusiastic young man, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement at the thought of doing such a mundane task as helping Berwald dress.

What was the harm in it?

"This isn't customary," the servants warned Berwald as he gestured for Mr Väinämöinen to follow him up the stairs. "There are regulations – "

"He's harmless," were Berwald's only words. "Look at him." Mr Väinämöinen looked barely sixteen summers, rosy and soft-featured. There was no way he would be a threat to Berwald's person; the lord could easily overpower him with no more than his fists.

* * *

"I'm so glad you trust me like this!" Mr Väinämöinen chattered all the way up the staircase and along the corridors, into Berwald's chamber. He seemed to notice this as well, for he quickly fell silent, cheeks flushing. "I do apologise, again, I fear I talk too much."

"Not at all." Berwald was used to endless talk, and Mr Väinämöinen's voice was not an unpleasant one.

"Really?" That only encouraged the lad. "Oh, you are a kind sir! I promise I'll be the best valet you could wish for!"

Minutes later, Berwald stood in nothing but long underwear, watching his prospective valet find suitable clothing. The lad seemed skilled, picking garments that matched in colour and style. As they dressed, Berwald started his questioning.

"How old are you?"

"Midwinter marks the start of my nineteenth year," Mr Väinämöinen said cheerfully, buttoning a shirt up over Berwald's broad chest.

"Not a summer child?" Could any child born in the depths of the coldest season be so sunny, so cheery? Mr Väinämöinen was not what he seemed.

"No! And I am cursed with a young face. You still think me a child, I'm sure." Mr Väinämöinen almost pouted as he said that, his bottom lip jutting out plump and rosy. Berwald stared at it, bright eyes tracing the dip and curve of what made up that lovely little mouth. And Mr Väinämöinen noticed his attention, and quickly flushed again.

"O-Of course, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, or disrespectful in any way, sir! I'm simply, ah, assuming, though of course it's unfair of me to assume that you think as most everyone else does – "

"Mr Väinämöinen," Berwald interrupted him. "I don't think you're a child."

"Oh…" The ashamed blush turned to one of bashful happiness. "Oh, well, thank you, sir. And please, don't bother yourself calling me 'Mr Väinämöinen' all the time. It's such a mouthful, I know it is. Please call me Tino!"

"Tino." Berwald rolled the name on his tongue, testing it. "Wouldn't be proper." A valet always had to be called by his surname; the first name was too familiar.

"With all due respect, sir," Tino said, a slightly cheeky smile on his sweet face, "I'll see you undressed every morning. Some would call _that _improper."

And Berwald was so stunned by the sheer boldness of the statement that he simply nodded and murmured, with a sort of admiration, "Tino it is."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts, feelings, ideas, leave them all in a review! I promise I'm going to keep this one up, though please keep in mind that I'm still in school and will be for another five weeks, during which time I'm going to have four exams.**


	3. Act I Scene III

**Act I**  
**Scene III**

* * *

Tino was a skilled valet, and not only that – he could serve, chaperone, clean, and even cook almost as well as any specialised servant. Soon he was in high demand in Berwald's household, but our Swedish hero didn't relinquish him; he was besotted, and like a child with a shiny new toy, didn't want to let his valet do anything else except be by his side.

It was an autumn morning crisp and fresh, the fire in Berwald's bedchamber stoked by Tino himself. Berwald stood in front of his dressing screen, as always, as Tino did his buttons up and smoothed the wrinkles from the shoulders of his shirt.

"Simply a lunch party?" he was asking, to which Berwald nodded.

"Mathias usually has them often."

"Usually?" Tino had become quite skilled at unpicking Berwald's language and understanding the real meaning behind it. "Why has he not held any recently?"

"His wife's going into confinement soon."

"She's having a baby? Oh, how wonderful!" Tino gushed, beaming. "I did think that the Lady Belle was looking radiant at the last dinner! How amazing for the both of them! Lord Mathias must be thrilled!"

"He is." Berwald was torn between chuckling at the Finn's enthusiasm, and stopping short at the observation that the lady had looked 'radiant' (so Tino had been looking at her, admiring her...). "They have a son already. Mathias adores him."

The Dane had always been a family man, full of love and affection for family, friends, and lovers alike. His heart was that of gold and nothing less pure. In fact, one could even say he had too much love in his heart to give to only one.

"Children are the best things life can offer," Tino sighed happily. "I only wish one day I could be fortunate to have my own."

Berwald's heart sank further.

* * *

Berwald sat beside Lukas, as he always did at events. Being at Mathias' house meant that Tino wasn't one of the familiar footmen circling the room with trays of food, and his absence was clearer than any presence in the room at that moment.

"Berwald!" Lukas snapped his fingers harshly in his closest friend's line of vision. "Honestly. What _are_ you thinking about?"

"Nobody," Berwald replied, a little too quickly.

"A sweetheart," was Lukas' easy guess. The Swede had those signs of first falling: a glazed look, bright spots on his high cheekbones, the faintest of smiles as he masqueraded with the man in his mind. (For Lukas knew it had to be a man.) "Tell me everything."

"Nothing to tell." Berwald's voice turned soft and melancholy. "There's no way at all."

"Married?"

A shake of the head.

"A ladies' man?"

Another shake.

"Berwald, you have the capability of seducing anyone, and you mustn't pretend you don't know it," Lukas told him, tone dismissive. "Hint at it. He'll fall into your arms."

"He's my valet," Berwald whispered, his head down so that the conversation was purely between him and Lukas. "Tino."

There was a pregnant pause as Lukas turned that over in his mind. Then – "It makes no difference if you take him as a lover."

"What – ?"

At that moment, Mathias called along the table to them, waving with that huge, warm beam on his face. Beside him, his wife Belle, her belly swollen with their unborn child, smiled as well, inclining her head.

"It makes no difference," the Norwegian murmured, "who you take as a lover. As long as he loves you, it matters not." He was talking to Berwald, but his dark blue gaze was fixed solely on Mathias, before he raised his hand in a nonchalant wave back.

Berwald understood, at that point. And he decided that Lukas' words applied to him perfectly.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's short, but I'm trying to keep each scene to the direct event and feelings without too much extra waffling. It makes them easier to publish on a regular basis, too!**

**Aside, I hope the DenNor fans are happy. Drop a review if you liked it!**


	4. Act I Scene IV

**Act I  
Scene IV**

* * *

Several weeks later, a Saturday morning dawned bright and fresh. The hopeful sun shimmered behind a cloud; it's warm, buttery yellow rays shone through the window of Berwald's bedchamber. Here, the Swede sat in his chair, a towel around his shoulders, shirt loose and barely done up. He was waiting for Tino to give him a shave.

The Finn entered with shaving cream and razors, the sunlight glinting in his spun-gold hair and illuminating his smile.

"Ready, sir?" And with Berwald's nod, he leant close. He spread the shaving cream on Berwald's cheeks, his touch smooth and firm. Berwald felt his pulse quicken under the man's touch.

"It looks set to be a lovely day today!" What was a moment between them like this without Tino's conversation? The Swedish lord had grown to relish it, hearing Tino's sweet voice, and not being expected to reply too often or exchange meaningless pleasantries. He let Tino chatter while he prepared for his shave, the cool cream like a soothing caress on his skin.

"… sir?"

"Hm?"

"You seemed somewhere else," Tino chuckled. "I just wanted to see that you were still with me here."

"I'm going to ask something," Berwald finally had the courage to say, almost in response to Tino's own remark. "Might sound strange."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that with me, sir! I'm your valet after all! There are no secrets between us!"

Their gazes held for a moment, before Berwald looked away, and Tino lifted the razor to shave carefully down his jaw in a smooth motion.

"Got a woman?" was Berwald's question.

"A woman?" Tino tittered, pausing in his work for a second. "You mean a wife? Oh no, sir, certainly not!"

"Not a sweetheart either?"

"She would be an unlucky woman to have me," Tino joked, though his smile was ever so slightly strained.

"Neither woman nor man?"

The razor clattered to the floor, Tino letting out a yelp of surprise and embarrassment. "Oh, dear me, I do apologise!" He quickly dropped to his knees to retrieve it, hands shaking, face burning. "I am so sorry, sir, I should have been more careful, that could have cut – oh, I'm clumsy." He laughed anxiously, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands.

"Don't worry about it," Berwald murmured, quite surprised at that reaction. He supposed he had shocked Tino by what could have sounded like an unjust accusation, but he hadn't said it in any condemning tone of sorts! He had meant it as sheer curiosity.

Once Tino was up again, his hands trembled as he continued the shave. "Could I trouble you by asking why you're interested, sir?"

"No trouble. Just curious," Berwald said, tone perfectly even.

"Really?" Tino seemed even more relieved at that, some of his smile returning. "I was worried that you might have, I don't know, heard some gossip or such nonsense – " He quickly stopped, eyes widening like those of a deer in the path of a hunter. "It's not to your interest, sir."

Oh, but how it was! Berwald was desperate to know why the other servants might have been spreading gossip about his sweet valet. Could it possibly be related to the question of whether his sweetheart was a man?

Before the shave was over, Tino crumbled.

"I have a sweetheart, sir. But… they don't think of me in such a way."

"Married?" Berwald's questions now mimicked the style of Lukas', when the Norwegian had questioned Berwald on the very same topic.

"No, sir."

"Surrounded by admirers?"

"Not exactly, sir." A blush rose in Tino's round cheeks. "I know that my sweetheart is of too high a station for me to ever think of my love coming to fruition."

"You're serious about this… person." Berwald made his observation with a grim tone that seemed to set Tino even more on edge.

"Could I tell you a dreadful secret, sir? One you mustn't tell anyone! I don't mean to be impertinent, but –!"

"It won't be spoken of," Berwald said immediately, opening himself up for Tino's confidence. "Only between you and I."

With a slow nod, Tino took a deep breath, his shaving routine all but forgotten.

"He is a man, sir. Such a man…"

"Who?"

"I couldn't possibly tell!" Tino's voice almost cracked with sheer nerves.

"You can," Berwald assured him, tone firm, a trace of authority in it. "It's only between us."

"_Exactly_!"

Berwald blinked, and a bubble of silence enveloped them. Nothing seemed to move or breathe for a long, long moment. Tino's face was flushed darkly, his eyes bright with worry and that sudden sinking feeling one gets when one regrets revealing a very personal secret indeed.

"I'm involved." Berwald popped the bubble with his quiet realisation. He almost didn't dare let his heart beat with excitement, for fear that it would all come to nothing.

Tino nodded shakily, eyes cast downwards. "I… I do admire you very much, sir."

"Admire?"

"I would call it love if it was not too bold," the Finn whispered. He seemed unable to do anything but offer himself up, helpless as a lamb on the altar of Berwald's judgement.

Oh, Berwald was merciful.

His hands, broad, pale and long-fingered, reached out to cup the reddened face, and before either of them could think another word, their lips were pressed together, hard yet soft, and unbearably, undeniably sweet.

* * *

**A/N: Review if you liked it! It might have seemed simple for them to get together, but their path isn't going to be smooth at all...**


	5. Act I Scene V

**Act I  
Scene V**

* * *

Berwald's spectacles were rose-tinted ever since that glowing, fateful morning. Tino was forever on his mind and in his heart, and having him serving during a ball in his own house certainly didn't help matters.

"You couldn't be less discreet if you tried," Lukas remarked coldly, watching his best friend watch Tino. The Finn weaved deftly around the room as if not bound by gravity, and Berwald's ocean-coloured eyes followed him with every step.

"Someone's fascinated!" Mathias laughed, knocking back the last of his wine in one gulp. The three men socialised together at these events whenever they could, but as yet, Lukas was the only outsider who knew of Berwald and Tino's illicit relationship.

All Berwald could think of at that moment was how Tino had looked under the livery he now wore, the precise pattern of pale freckles that had danced across his shoulder blades, how his voice had sounded so much sweeter in intense pleasure, and how he had called him 'Berwald' for the first time instead of 'sir', his tone a whisper of pure bliss.

Lukas could practically see the memories mapping out on Berwald's face, and he pinched the man's arm subtly but fiercely.

"Don't give yourself away," he hissed.

"I hear there's plans for a wedding?" Mathias asked innocently. Both Lukas and Berwald spun to face him, wearing identical expressions of shock, and Mathias burst into laughter. "You two act like an arranged couple, bickering and whispering like that!"

"Danish _imbecile_," Lukas said with a roll of his eyes, stepping over to stand at Mathias' side.

He was significantly subtler than Berwald.

"No, honestly, both of you should be marrying soon, isn't that right?" Mathias was fully serious at this point. Men of their standing would usually be in arranged matches by now, or courting, or at least be showing some form of interest in a lady of similar rank.

Mathias' marriage had been arranged; he had been fortunate enough that Belle was a good friend of his, and that he had enough family loyalty to share a bed with her, if only to produce children to further their line.

"I'm a lonely writer," Lukas declared dryly. "My fate is to sit in my chamber and pen endless pages of stories to be enjoyed by countless people for many years to come."

"I can't marry," Berwald said quickly, quietly, piquing Mathias' interest.

"Oh? And why not?"

"He has fallen in love with and lain with his valet," explained Lukas, his tone bored. "He can't take his eyes off the boy and swears to never be unfaithful." (Well, there was a little embellishment, but Lukas was a writer.)

"What?" Mathias' eyebrows jumped up on his forehead, his big blue eyes widening. "Truly?"

All Berwald could do was duck his head and say nothing, for he couldn't deny the plain truth.

"Sve…" The old childish nickname surfaced as worry knitted Mathias' brow. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I wouldn't think it was. It's not the easiest of relationships to get into, you know?"

The sound of disbelief came not from Berwald's mouth, but from Lukas'. "_Excuse_ me?"

"It's true!" Mathias held up his hands, his whole broad frame a little slumped. "Not because you don't love each other – you adore each other, you would do anything for each other!" It was obvious now that he wasn't talking about a hypothetical relationship. "And you want to shout from the rooftop about your love when you know that you are married to another!"

At that point Lukas gave the Dane such a glare that if Lukas' dark blue eyes were fire, Mathias would be alight.

"Speaking of marriage." Every word was clipped and cold. "Perhaps I will marry."

"What?" Now it was Berwald's turn to look utterly shocked. "Who?"

"Ivan Braginsky's sister, or half-sister, whoever she is. Natalya Arlovskaya." Lukas took a sip of wine, his Adam's apple pushing against the skin of his throat. "She's fair of face."

"Though not of body," Mathias chuckled quietly, looking quite deflated. "She's far too thin. She'll never give you children, Lukas."

"Unlike the elder sister –"

"Excuse me, sirs." In Berwald's eyes, the fairest face in the room had just appeared: Tino, in all his glory with blue velvet livery and the light shining on his thick, soft hair. His smile was practiced, the routine expression that all servants had to wear while attending. "I have a message for Lord Oxenstierna…" he trailed off as his eyes drifted from the small envelope in his hands, up to the face of his lover.

"Who's it from?" Mathias asked, nosily as ever, leaning over to read the writing as Berwald took the envelope and gently slit it open. "Oh, Berwald's father! I haven't heard from him in far too long!"

"He's been too busy running his estate to lollygag with the likes of you," Lukas said shortly, though the way he leant ever so slightly closer to Mathias betrayed some deeper feeling not expressed in his casually harsh remarks.

The two were so engrossed in their own exchange that they did not notice Berwald's eyes widen as they scanned down the page – but Tino noticed.

"What is it, sir?" he asked, a note of worry in his voice.

"Ivan Braginsky's elder sister, her name's Yekaterina, yes?" Berwald swallowed thickly.

"I, ah, I wouldn't know…"

"Lukas." Berwald repeated his question to Lukas, who tilted his head, silky fringe falling close to his eyes.

"Yekaterina Braginskaya? Yes, the same one."

Berwald nodded, almost to himself, grip tightening on the edges of the letter, trying not to crumple them.

"What?" Lukas asked, tone a little urgent.

"We spoke too soon." Berwald's voice was low, his eyes on the ground, his shoulders slumped. "I'm arranged to be married to Yekaterina Braginskaya."

The room seemed to fall silent, at least for the four young men, and the silence stretched, on and on.

* * *

**End of Act I**


	6. Interval

**Interval**

* * *

_They were trapped. Berwald was trapped by his duty, and Tino by his need to be near his love – neither would leave the household, so they were still together, even after the engagement. And they were together in every sense of the word._

* * *

"Berwald has fallen," Mathias murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on Lukas' chest. The time was uncertain, but they lay together in the pearly grey hours before the dawn, where everything is still simply for want of stillness before the sunrise.

"He will rise again," was Lukas' reply. His ink-stained fingers tangled into Mathias' wild, sun-coloured locks, carding his fingers through it as if committing the feeling to memory. "I've seen the way he looks at Tino. He will never let him go."

"Can it be possible, though?" Sitting up, Mathias rested his chin on Lukas' bare chest, pulling the blankets tighter around them. "He is getting married, after all…"

Lukas only regarded him with a look some would call cold, others resentful, and others, maybe the most perceptive of them all, would call it carefully hidden sadness.

"You have a wife. You have a son named Marten and a daughter named Emilie, and your wife is expecting again. Don't tell me that affairs within a marriage aren't possible."

"This is different!" The Dane sat up properly, his broad back against the headboard of Lukas' bed. Even without seeing it, Lukas knew the exact place where an old scar met a birthmark on that back. He had touched it, rubbed his hands over it, kissed it – more than he knew Mathias' wife had ever done. "You and I were always destined for each other!"

"And yet here we are. One married, one engaged, and secretly meeting under the cover of night and sheets."

Mathias had no answer for that. Instead, he had to pick up on the one topic in which he could challenge Lukas, to compensate for being repeatedly challenged.

"So you are engaged?"

"Natalya's father handed her over without a second word," Lukas brushed off. "He longs to be rid of her."

"I thought she was only his ward?"

"She's his bastard child by a mistress." Lukas' tone was routinely blunt even when talking about something so sensitive. "She's only useful if she can marry."

"And Yekaterina?" Back to Berwald's fiancée, the plump, pretty lady with an anxious smile and fine hair. "She's his lawful child, isn't that so?"

Lukas nodded, turning onto his side so he could look up at Mathias, watching the way his kiss-swollen lips moved as he talked, the faint dusting of freckles on his nose barely visible in the dim light.

"Right." Silence fell; discussing those in their social circle wasn't a regular habit, and fell awkwardly between them. The only sounds were Mathias fidgeting between the sheets, entwining and separating his fingers.

Then – "I'm going to name my next son after you."

"What?" Lukas sat up at that, brushing his hair back and staring, surprised, at Mathias. "Why on Earth would you do that?"

"I want a small part of you around me every single day, Lukas," the Dane confessed, a little smile crooking on his lips. "You mean so much to me. If I can't do it any other way –"

"I'm not trying to take you on a guilt trip, Mathias –"

"But I feel the guilt!" He reached out, wrapping his hand around Lukas'. "Will you let me do this? And let me name you godfather?"

"I can't stop you," was Lukas' reply – but the twitch of his lips and the tightening of his fingers in Mathias' spoke more than he ever would.

* * *

_Weddings were planned. Berwald would marry mere weeks before Tino's nineteenth birthday; he would attend the wedding, as a valet and nothing more._

_If our world was ruled by the stars, it would be Tino standing in the place of the bride. But our world is not ruled by the stars, and we mortals are prey to the complex social rules of the game that is our lives. My love with Mathias bent those rules – we skirted around the pieces, fearful of disturbing them._

_The love between Berwald and Tino would topple the pieces and carve new ones from the rubble of the broken board._

* * *

**A/N: Not so much a filler chapter as a 'straightening out the universe' chapter, just setting up the whole scene for Act Two. And sorry it's so much DenNor, but I thought they were the best medium for saying all this stuff without it seeming strange!**

**(Mathias' wife is Belle, or Belgium, for anyone who is still wondering!)**


	7. Act II Scene I

**Act II  
****Scene I**

* * *

It was a midwinter's night when the great hall of Berwald's castle was full of guests, dancing in the dim light. A fire roared in the grate, sending red shadows flickering on the walls, and those who didn't dance warmed their trembling hands by it.

Lukas danced with his new wife; Natalya was thin, her hair as pale and thick as fresh snowfall, her eyes icy. They danced routinely, their movements nothing but those of marionettes, expressions composed.

Mathias danced with Belle, her body swollen with a third child (the one to be named for Lukas, if Mathias fulfilled his promise). The warm young woman seemed washed-out, tired from the hour and the stage of her pregnancy. Mathias held her as they danced, but his eyes were on Lukas.

And of course, the centre of our story, our tragic hero, Berwald Oxenstierna himself, stood in the middle of the room. The couples seemed to dance in circles around him, shoes tapping the stone floor along to the beat of his own heart. On his arm with his fiancée, decked in her finery– but in the corner was the real object of his desires.

Tino stood stiff as a sentry, holding a tray of drinks, back against the wall. His face – his lovely face – was sad, but had slipped into that practised expression of _nothing is wrong, nothing is here, I am a servant and nothing more. _

He did not often spare a glance for Berwald, for fear that his heart would break if he looked at the man of his dreams too closely, he would not be able to control himself. Berwald was everything in this hall. Tino was nothing, nd as much as he knew he had to accept that, he could not.

Standing in the middle of the fray, Berwald's eyes followed his guests – bright colours, dresses that swished back and forth, hair bouncing in time with the music, everything swirling and spinning. Couples seemed to jerk about as if they were no more than puppets, and as Berwald's eyes widened, he looked to Yekaterina as if begging an answer, something, from her.

Her wide eyes were nothing more than a pale reproduction of Tino's.

"I need air." Blood rushing in his ears, Berwald all but stumbled from the room, dark tendrils curling at the edges of his vision. He felt faint, sick – everything was only pulled sharply into focus after he had waded out into the deep snow and taken a few sobering gasps of frigid air.

There was silence, for a while. Nothing but the snow and the stars and Berwald. The Swede looked up, sighing deeply, before burying his face in his hands.

This was all wrong. He didn't want to marry Yekaterina. He didn't want to be forced into this production of a marriage with a young woman worth nothing to her own father. He didn't want to produce a string of children as heirs to his title.

All he wanted was his one love, a sweet-faced little Finn. Was that too much to ask?

"Sir?"

Berwald whipped around, the icy wind stinging his eyes as he saw Tino trudging through the snow towards him, a cloak hastily wrapped around his shoulders as some sort of protection against the night.

"Sir, please come back inside! You'll fall ill if you stay out here for too long!"

"I won't," was Berwald's faint reply, though he could already feel his body stiffening. He was only wearing his formal clothes, after all.

"Sir!" Tino's voice cracked, and when he was near enough, he grabbed Berwald by the lapels, trying to pull him. "Berwald! You'll catch your death!"

"No matter – "

"What do you mean, _no matter_?" Tino's eyes burned as he looked up at his master – his lover. "How can you say such a thing? You're to be married in three days!"

"It's your birthday."

That stopped Tino dead in his tracks. "What did you say?" His voice was quiet over the moan of the wind.

"You said your birthday was midwinter," Berwald stated calmly, his hands resting on Tino's shoulders, rubbing them lightly.

"I'd mark it as tomorrow," Tino whispered, the fire in his eyes glowing brightly. "You remembered."

"As if I would forget."

Then, Berwald pulled Tino into a strong kiss – not just a loving one, but a desperate one, the kiss of a man who feels his world falling away and grips to the one person he knows can save him. They kissed passionately, Tino's fingers tangling into Berwald's hair, with Berwald's arms around his waist, their bodies pulled flush together.

The glowing embers of a dying fire in Berwald's soul flickered hopefully.

And from inside, a pair of knowing eyes watched them.

* * *

**A/N: The drama only continues... review if you liked it!**


	8. Act II Scene II

**Act II**  
**Scene II**

* * *

The wedding was a funeral; at least, it was for Tino's heart.

The hall was vast, full of guests, with Tino a mere speck at the very back, and there was a faint chill in the air – the Finn had to cross his trembling hands behind his back to keep his composure.

There was no missing the richly-dressed bride and groom. Yekaterina wore a long, flowing white dress, embroidered with in a myriad of colours, while her hair was braided around her head and adorned with bright flowers. But it was Berwald who was the sight to behold: his suit perfectly cut, every inch of it tailored to his beautiful body, the accents the very colour of his hair while the blues of it seemed to have been dyed from his eyes themselves.

Tino wanted to leave, or he wanted to kiss Berwald senseless, neither of which he could do. He had a duty as a valet to stay, and duty as a lover to do what he knew was right for his love.

The couple were linked by a hand, a simple clasp of the fingers, as a foreign dignitary shakes the hand of his host. Berwald's young brother, the reddish-haired boy, not yet thirteen years old and who Tino hadn't met properly, held the ring (scowling at it as he was wont to do) while Yekaterina's half-sister Natalya stood at her side.

Everything was still, silent but for the halting speech of the priest. To Tino it seemed like a performance – a wedding was the ultimate symbol of the love between two people, but here it was twisted.

Berwald didn't love his bride but instead loved another.  
Yekaterina was only marrying her groom because an unwritten rule dictated that she only mattered if she was married.

Where was the sanctity in that?

"I now pronounce you man and wife."

Tino was jerked from his mournful musings by those fateful words that he had dreaded for the last so many months. Seven words to shatter his world, when spoken to his Berwald.

_Man and wife._

He couldn't even think the words without bile rising in his throat. And when Berwaldn leant to kiss Yekaterina, sealing the vows, Tino had to look away, lest he start to weep.

* * *

Lukas caught him just as the ceremony ended.

"Come with me," was all he said, managing to sound commanding without raising his voice. "Have a drink with me."

That was how Tino ended up in a small, dimly-lit drawing room, no fire to warm it. Lukas had given him brandy – such fine alcohol he had never tasted properly! – and sat back with a notebook and pencil, looking both utterly busy and yet calm at the same time.

"This can't be proper, sir," Tino managed to say after the burn of the brandy had faded from his throat. "Surely you must been needed at the festivities – "

"I'll show my face at dinner," Lukas interrupted, "but I'm not going to float around like a lonely cloud for so long before that." He watched Tino, heartbroken little Tino, and his icy features softened minutely.

"I know exactly how you feel. I experienced this myself." He didn't know whether Berwald had told his lover, so he said no more and hoped Tino understood. "My advice is to brace yourself, because it only gets worse."

"Worse?" Tino mumbled into his glass.

"He will have to appear in public with his wife. He will be expected to act the model couple with her, and of course, there must be no gossip that he is unfaithful to her – though of course there'll be those who expect he has at least one mistress."

Tino didn't answer, preferring alcohol to facing the truth.

"Leave if you can," Lukas said firmly. But that what when Tino had to all but slam the glass down.

"I can't leave him! I won't! He needs me! Have you forgotten that he loves me, as well as I him?" The fact that he was a valet while Lukas was a nobleman was irrelevant here; all that mattered now was that someone was challenging his love for Berwald.

"Love cannot overcome the system," Lukas snapped in retaliation, his own painful thoughts dredged up with Tino's anger. "You will be left in despair if you think you can carry on like this."

"Your system is flawed!"

"It is your system too. You are just as much a part of this as I, and you have been since you came into employment in this castle. And you will be part of this system, like it or not, as long as you associate yourself with Berwald."

Drained, Tino slumped, resting his head on the cold tabletop.

* * *

Berwald and his new wife had a honeymoon of no less than three weeks. When Berwald returned, Tino was waiting, forever a loyal valet.

Berwald had instructed him to make up a bed in the dressing room, for he would not, if he could help it, share a bed with Yekaterina. After all, he had spent the last twenty two nights exactly in her bed.

"Did you have a good break, sir?" Tino asked, his smile as wooden as the comb he handed to Berwald as he helped the Swedish lord out of his shirt. "I'm sure you travelled somewhere lovely. By the sea, was it?"

His only response was a grunt.

"I'm sure you are tired. I should leave you be to have an early night," Tino mumbled, almost fearful that Berwald had fallen out of love with him – a notion that shook the Finn to his very core.

"You're thinner."

Berwald always though over his words long and hard, and he knew that Tino's own words were senseless at that point – nervous chatter to blot out the tension between them. Now, his eyes locked onto Tino's via his dressing table mirror, and he repeated his words, "You're thinner, Tino."

"You could say I've not had such an appetite recently…"

"Eat properly now." Berwald turned, and carefully wrapped his arms around Tino, holding him close but tenderly, not wanting to crush Tino with the force of his love. "I worried about you."

All Tino could do was bury his face in Berwald's chest. This couldn't work, but at the same time… all he could do was obey the love that bound them tight than any vow or wedding band.

* * *

**A/N: Berwald's younger brother in this is Ladonia, for those wondering! And yes, I know, it's heartbreaking and tragic... but things will get better for them, I promise! Oh, and for this, Ukraine has long hair, but braided up and around her head, still giving it the appearance of being short - it suits the time period more, and she'll cut it later!**


	9. Act II Scene III

**Act II**  
**Scene III**

* * *

Weeks passed, long and cold. Winter petered out into a drizzly spring, grey and chilly, damp with misery. A few flowers dared grow underneath tall, cold blades of grass, but nothing more, lest they die of the cold.

Tino had once been called a flower by the man he loved.

Now his duties were to both Berwald and his wife. He would help them organise their affairs, clear their chambers while they were out for the day – he was Berwald's valet but Yekaterina was bound to Berwald, and was, by extension, also an employer of Tino.

The Finn wasn't bitter. He was simply miserable.

There came a cold day when only him and Yekaterina occupied the chambers. Tino was stoking the fire, dully prodding the logs to try and ease life into them, while the lady sat at her desk, writing letters. She wrote many letters – to her sister, her other friends, and even other men she had met at formal affairs.

"Do you have any siblings, Tino?" she asked, turning a little in her chair to watch the valet, not so much curious about what he was doing as curious about him in general. Berwald didn't often talk, but when he did, it was usually about Tino.

The Finn looked up, a little surprised at her interest. "No, madam. I was the only child that survived infancy."

"You must be very strong then," she smiled, her eyes shining with genuine admiration. "But it must have been lonely, mustn't it?"

"I had the village children to play with," Tino said with a shake of his head, a hint of his old smile coming to his lips. "I was never left wanting for company."

"I always felt blessed to have my brother and sister," Yekaterina mused, "but now – well, I don't want for anything, Berwald is such a good man –" It stung Tino's heart even though he knows she doesn't mean it to, " – but I am lonely." Then she turned flustered. "I must appear terribly ungrateful, I am so sorry, Tino!"

"No need to apologise, madam! One should never apologise for their feelings."

Yekaterina looked down at her letter, the one she had just headed with _Dearest Matthew_, and sighed worriedly.

* * *

"Tino…" He breathed his lover's name, the word tinged with something like sadness. Lying in the bed in the spacious dressing room, Berwald clasped Tino to his chest, warm, bare skin pressed against bare skin. It was a delight, a treat to be able to lie with him like this, no duties to perform today, nobody to impress or hide from.

Just Berwald and Tino and nobody else in the world.

The Swedish lord had his face nuzzled into the valet's neck, arms wrapped strongly around him, inhaling the scent of his skin. They held each other, protecting each other from the coming storm that always seemed to hover over them.

"Tino…"

"Yes, Berwald?"

"Don't be angry." It was almost a plea, a kind of desperation Tino had never heard before in Berwald's voice. It left him quiet and confused for a few seconds before Berwald managed to say – "I lay with Katya."

Silence.

"You lay with her?"

"We're expected to produce children –" Berwald sat up a little, supporting himself on his elbows to hover above Tino, unreadable expression belying the anxiety in his eyes. " – heirs to the family –"

"Oh, Berwald." Tino reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it fondly with his thumb – though he closed his eyes to still his tears. "Don't worry about me," he whispered. "I always knew this would happen."

The world was crumbling.

* * *

Tino was tidying their chambers when he heard the click of the doorknob, and the soft swish of the door opening. Berwald stood in the doorway, and as ever, Tino's heart lifted. He gave his love a warm smile – too intimate for a passing glance between lord and valet – before continuing with his duties, as he knew he should.

"Yekaterina writes a lot of letters, doesn't she?" he noted cheerfully, tidying them into a neat pile for when she returned. "She has many good friends, it's rather enviable!"

On hearing Berwald's hum of agreement, he continued, "She seems very close to, ah, a man named Matthew, do you know him?"

"Family friend." Berwald cleared his throat lightly, hesitating before he spoke. "She talks of him as I talk of you."

"They must be especially close…" Tino blinked, running the words through his mind again, then turned to face Berwald, shock evident on his face. "As you talk of _me_?" he repeated.

Berwald was sitting on the bed, looking up at the Finn with nothing in his face to suggest anything out of the ordinary, except a flicker in his eyes. Was it hope, or something deeper?

"What does it mean?" The fact that they were alone was the only reason Tino could sit beside Berwald on the bed and take Berwald's hand in both of his own, squeezing it, eyes wide. "What –"

_Click – swish_. The door opened.

Tino had never been especially superstitious but everyone said that should you speak of the devil, he will appear; he had never thought of Yekaterina as the devil but in this situation there were no other words to use. The lady stood in the doorway, light blue eyes running over her husband and her valet, settling on their linked hands before looking to their faces.

There was no anger in her face, merely… surprise.

"You have been so subtle until now," she smiled lightly, closing the door behind her. The reaction was so soft, it was as though the blow hadn't hit – Berwald and Tino sat frozen, waiting for the storm to break. But no storm would come from Yekaterina, fair woman as she was.

"Not that I blame you at all, I'm sure everybody finds himself or herself in this situation at some point or another!" She took a seat in her chair, hands resting on her stomach. "But here we have such a tangled situation," she sighed.

"Madam –" Tino started to talk but Yekaterina hushed him gently.

"You two are in love. I am also in love," her face softened into a sweet little smile, before she turned mournful, rubbing her stomach. "But I am pregnant, Berwald. He or she will be your heir."

* * *

And at exactly that moment, or thereabouts, Mathias' second son and third child came into the world, and without a moment's thought, he was named Lukas.

* * *

**A/N: It's getting so... dramatic! Or tangled, as Katya said. Let's see if I can really wrap this up in just two more chapters! I'm sorry for the long wait, but at my school they get pleasure out of dumping a ton of exams on us in the last three weeks. Just one week left, but I've got a German assessment. So let's hope I can finish this soon!**


	10. Act II Scene IV

**Act II**  
**Scene IV**

* * *

_It is said that children bring both joy and turmoil when they enter this world. At that point in time I had no children, so I was not to know such things, but one only had to look at Berwald and Tino's situation and how it coincided with the birth of young Lukas – or Luuk, as he was called – to believe it steadfastly._

* * *

Spring slid into a hot summer, where the sparkling sun shone so strongly that every function was held outside. One such a day in the middle of the hot season, Berwald's castle gardens were full of guests – outdoor tables decked with food and decorations and covered by tablecloths so fresh and white they nearly glowed, surrounded by people, mingling and chatting. Women sat in groups on the lawn, relaxed under parasols, while the men stood with glasses of champagne and smoked.

Katya was the centre of attention among the womenfolk; her curved belly covered by a flowing white dress, her hair adorned with summer flowers. She took no pride in being so talked about – on the contrary, she almost seemed embarrassed when a friend would ask after prospective names or any such talk that most pregnant women loved to carry on with.

"I never would have believed it." A good way off, certainly out of earshot of the women, Lukas took a short sip of champagne. "Berwald vowed he would never touch a woman."

He was standing with Mathias, the two of them sharing the shade of a parasol, since Lukas burned horribly in bright sunlight, while Mathias turned as freckled as a labourer.

"Well, you vowed that too," Mathias laughed, "and look now, your wife is sitting over there!" He gestured to the lawn, where, sitting beside Katya, Natalya watched over the celebrations with an expression of extreme disinterest.

"I recall that _you_ vowed that you would touch nobody aside from me," Lukas near-snapped, "and yet all of the three children on the lawn belong to you." Three-year-old Magnus and two-year-old Emelie ran and played in the grass, dressed in the sweetest of white clothes, while tiny Luuk sat swaddled in his nursemaid's arms.

"Had you been a fighter instead of a writer," Mathias said, a pained chuckle in his tone, "that would have been a sword in the gut." Then he sighed. "You know I never wish to anger you, Lukas."

"I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with the system."

But before Mathias could ask, Berwald interrupted, striding over to them in his smart summer clothes – long and white with only accents of the palest blue and yellow. "Have you seen Tino?" he asked, the barest hint of worry in his voice.

"Has he gone missing?" Lukas asked after shaking his head, tilting his head a little.

"Not missing. Just can't find him." Berwald was away before either of his friends could enquire further.

* * *

Tino was in the dressing room. It wasn't so much a dressing room now as Tino's permanent chamber, where Berwald and Tino's marital bed lay. Berwald spent nearly every night there, and not only for physical love, but for the pure sensation of sleeping beside his soulmate.

Tino was packing his things.

"Tino?" When Berwald finally found him, the Swedish lord stood in the doorway, watching him with a mixture of both confusion and horror evident – well, evident to Tino, who had learnt to read him far more easily than any book – on his face. "What are you doing?"

When there was no answer, only the continuous shuffling of Tino's clothes and private possessions, Berwald closed the door sharply behind him and repeated the question. Only then did Tino look up.

"Your future cannot include me, Berwald. Am I the only one who sees it?"

"My future includes you…" Berwald's eyes widened a little. "You're not leaving?"

"I have to." Tino looked drained, exhausted. "I love you, Berwald, but this cannot go on. You'll have an heir in three months. You are expected to play the part of a lord, not a valet's lover."

"I am a valet's lover. I'm your lover, Tino..." Berwald trailed off, looking as though all his hopes had vanished with a snap of the fingers.

"You shouldn't be!" Tino secured his pack. "I know we've made plans, all sorts of grand plans for how the future can possibly work for us, but when one gives it true thought, it's clear to see how ridiculous it is. Katya and the child cannot be hidden away or –"

"I can't go on without you."

One small sentence to break Tino's shaky resolve. The Finn dropped his bag back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair with the air of a man crumbling.

"Do you promise that we will be together?" he asked, turning to Berwald, his bright blue-violet eyes red-rimmed. "Can you promise?"

"I promise." The gravity of Berwald's words echoed in the deep rumble of his tone. He was utterly serious – a future without Tino was no future at all.

"What can be done? What can we possibly do to make sure that neither we nor Katya nor the child suffer from this arrangement?"

"Only one thing." Berwald seemed struck by an idea. "Katya has to die."

* * *

The tender warmth of early summer rose fierce and tense in late summer. Nights were stifling, letters written by men in nightshirts, sweating in chilled castle rooms.

Katya felt the telltale pains but she said nothing. It was too early. The child could not be delivered yet.

The small hours of the morning were broken of their thick quiet by an urgent knocking on the dressing room door. Tino rolled out of bed, hazy with sleep, into the trundle bed beside them so as not to give the visiting servant undue ideas (or any more so than had already been planted), while Berwald got up, rubbing his eyes, to answer the door.

"Yes?"

"The Lady Yekaterina has called for a doctor," the servant told him, anxiety in his tone. "The child is coming."

"She told me the child would come with the autumn…?"

"It is too early, sir. There are fears for both of them."

"Their safety in danger?" Berwald stood up straight, physical signs of tiredness gone. "Send for the doctor. Give her the best care."

With a nod, the servant vanished, and Berwald came back to bed, holding open his arms for Tino. Despite the heat, the Finn rolled into his lover's arms, holding him tightly.

It had begun.

* * *

**A/N: One more chapter, and a finale. I promise I'll try and finish it before I get swept up in holiday stuff, I don't want to leave you guys hanging like this...**


	11. Act II Scene V

**Act II**  
**Scene V**

* * *

The labour was a long, slow process. All men were barred from the bedchamber, of course, leaving Katya with only maidservants until the doctor arrived. Sitting in the drawing room with Tino, all Berwald could do was worry. The baby was coming too early, and even he, as a young man who had no education in the ways of childbearing, knew that it was not a good sign.

But being alone like this, simply waiting and waiting for hours on end, gave Berwald ample time to think and plan. He had already sent for Matthew Williams, who was to make the long carriage ride from his secluded country house to here – and arrive at nightfall – but there were other people to summon.

The message sent out was clear: Yekaterina Oxenstierna was dying in childbirth.

* * *

Her brother and sister arrived within hours. Ivan looked pale, his light eyes wide with shock and sadness, while Natalya was almost spitting with anger.

"What did you do to her?" she demanded of Berwald, and she would have grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket had Ivan not held her back.

"It is not his fault," the huge man said, his light voice low and mournful. "When can we see her?"

"Natalya can now," Berwald said quickly, hoping to alleviate her anger, "but you must wait." No men until the child was delivered. Natalya stormed off to the bedchamber, and Ivan joined Berwald in the drawing room. Again, to wait.

* * *

It was late afternoon. Ivan was twisting the edge of his shirt, rocking back and forth slightly with nerves, while Berwald sat still as a statue, eyes on the wall.

They were too far from the bedchamber to hear any sounds. Both a pity and a blessing.

Then the door flew open, Natalya standing there, clothes rumpled and hair falling from its neat arrangement.

"Katya is fine," was all she said. "Perfectly fine."

Ivan let out a deep, relieved sight, then a laugh, that infamous high giggle of his. "We must see her!"

"And the baby?" Berwald asked as the three of them left the drawing room, making their way to Katya's chamber. "How is it?"

Here Natalya's face turned grave. "It was a girl."

"_Was_?" Berwald's heart dropped.

"Is," Natalya corrected herself. "I only saw her for a few minutes, for she couldn't breathe properly and the midwives took her away. She is tiny…" For a second, her icy expression softened into one of almost pity. "Tiny and fragile. She wasn't due to be delivered for another month, the midwives said."

"But she's alive?" Both of them alive and well, that was all Berwald could ask for!

"As far as I know," his sister-in-law confirmed.

* * *

Katya was sitting up in bed when they arrived. She looked tired, her hair long and loose around her, but her eyes were bright with love for the small bundle in her arms.

Berwald had never seen her look so truly happy. He wanted her to be happy like that more often; all the time, even. But he knew that while she was married to him, it just wasn't possible.

If she agreed, that would change.

Once all the servants had been sent away, only Berwald, Katya, Ivan and Natalya were left in the room.

"I've a proposition," Berwald began. "For you, Katya."

She sat up a little straighter. All eyes were on Berwald.

"If you could be Matthew Williams' wife, would you?"

Katya sighed with a little chuckle. "You know my answer to that, Berwald, and as much as I would say yes, it isn't possible!"

"Why would you ask such a thing?" Natalya asked suspiciously, eyes flickering between her sister and her brother-in-law.

"You can be his wife, if you wish." That was his proposition, and the room filled with silence as each of the three others tried to work out exactly how he could mean that.

"How?" Katya was the first one to speak, utterly confused.

"He's coming tonight. He will take you with him, if that's what you wish. The doctor will also come, and if you decide to go with Matthew, he will write you a death certificate. Nobody out of this room must know that you have left, so they will think you dead." If Katya wanted this, she had to be dead to their society.

Ivan let out a quiet gasp of understanding.

"You are suggesting that I leave you and become wife to another man?" Katya asked faintly.

"If you'd be happier as such," Berwald told her.

"But… what about the baby?"

"She is too delicate," Natalya cut in. "Will she withstand such a journey?"

"You may take her with you." Berwald sighed, coming to stand over Katya and look at the tiny, sleeping face of his newborn daughter. "She is yours."

"She is yours too!" Katya argued, looking up at Berwald with a little frown.

"I just want what's best."

Again, silence fell. This time it was Katya who was thinking hard.

"If I left her in your care," she started, "would you make sure she knew me? I would write to her every day when she becomes old enough to read, and I would always think of her as my daughter, but she would still be your heir. That must be what happens, Berwald." Here the soft woman became firm. "She must be your heir, and have all the privileges as she would have, had she been a boy. If you can promise me that, I will leave her in your care."

"Of course," Berwald agreed instantly. "I'd never treat her otherwise."

"Then I will go." And Katya's cheeks coloured with happiness.

"You," Natalya said with disbelief, "both of you, are pinning all your hopes and plans on this one child. This tiny baby that may not survive the night!"

"She will survive," Katya said with a soft smile, bringing the baby up to gently kiss her little forehead. "Berwald's blood runs in her veins. She is strong." Then she offered the bundle to Berwald himself, who took it with the utmost care.

Even swaddled tightly, he could see that she was perfectly formed, with the most delicate of fingers, curled into a tiny fist at her chin. Her face was a ruddy, healthy pink, and when her eyes opened, they were bright blue – the blue of the deep sea, as Berwald's were.

"Before I leave," Katya told her siblings, "I must cut my hair. Sister, will you cut it for me? I'd like it…" Her eyes lit up with excitement. "As short as Ivan's. It will be so much more freeing!"

* * *

**A/N: The last chapter shocked a lot of people, I know, so I decided to speed up the writing of this, just so that you don't all think I'm totally heartless. We still have one more chapter to go, so stay tuned for a little while longer!**


	12. Epilogue

_Five years passed without incident. At least, I think it was about five years; my memory fails me a little at this point._

_We didn't often hear from Yekaterina, since her new husband lived in the back of beyond, practically. But from her letters, she was thriving - Matthew was seemingly the perfect husband, and she gave him many healthy sons._

_Mathias and Belle secured their dynasty with a large family, each child bright and brilliant as their parents - but my personal favourite was always Luuk, with his soft face, his warm blue eyes, and his loyalty towards his cold godfather._

_To keep our families happy, me and Natalya did eventually have one child, and though I love Hanne with all my heart, I will never lie with a woman again._

_I wrote this as a way of collecting my thoughts and memories, of working out exactly how this whole affair played out, and I have to say it is just as melodramatic as any story I could have created. In fact, even more so, since the characters play their parts without the added nonsense a writer always has to give his characters: dirty secrets, hidden agendas, none of that will linger in the pages of Berwald and Tino's story. This may not be published until well after all the primary characters are dead, but I hope that at least one person - be it my Hanne, or Luuk, any of Mathias' childen, or Berwald's daughter herself - will read this and realise just what happened in the old days._

_My final author's note with this tale is this: when you find love, real love, love that means so much that it physically hurts, you must stop at nothing to reach it._

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

"Erika!" Tino called across the gardens. His charge, his student and somewhat-stepdaughter, was playing at the far end of the long lawn; he could see the bright spot of her white dress.

On hearing his voice, the little girl to him, wrapping her arms tight around his waist.  
"Isa!" She looked up through a thick fringe of bright blonde hair, gazing up at him adoringly with those eyes that were so like Berwald's. Her whole form, almost everything about her was like Berwald in Tino's eyes: her eyes, her regal features, her tall statue and long limbs. Even the way she walked reminded Tino of his lover. And that was why it was so lovely to hear her call him 'father' in his native language.

"Erika, I told you, you must only call me that when we are alone," Tino chuckled, smoothing her hair down fondly. "Otherwise you must call me 'Mr. Väinämöinen'."

"Pappa told me that he used to call you that," she said smartly, "and then you told him not to."

All Tino could do was pat her hair with a little smile – too bright for her own good, this one. "Come on, your Pappa sent for you. Your cousins have arrived."

He escorted her through the grass, long, fresh blades of green brushing their legs fondly, before they reached the stone patio where the table was laid out. Summer was waning, so there was no discomfort in the heat. Everything was white and clean, the tablecloth soft, the chatter friendly and playful.

On one side of the table sat Mathias' brood; they were six children in all, the youngest still sitting in his nursemaid's lap. With them was a solitary child, a little girl with long, pale hair and dark blue eyes, managing to look both faintly amused and mildly disinterested at the same time. This was Lukas and Natalya's only child, Hanne, and the only child they would ever have together. Erika ran to them, her beloved cousins, and Tino didn't need to entertain her any longer.

On the other side sat the adults: Mathias, Belle, Lukas, Natalya, and, of course, Berwald. Lord Oxenstierna sat at the head of the table, talking occasionally but seemingly not all there until his eyes fell upon his lover. A visible change came over him when Tino arrived – his eyes brightened, he sat up, his face softened into something reminiscent of a smile. His companions knew of his great love, but even if they hadn't previously, they would have known at that point.

But most curious of all was that Tino took a seat beside Berwald. Not behind him, as it was customary for a valet to do (if a valet ever took a seat, which was uncommon at such a gathering), but beside him.

"When is the wedding?" Lukas asked dryly, lightly nudging Mathias with his foot underneath the table. Tino laughed, thinking Lukas to be joking, but Berwald did not.

"Soon."

"What?" Tino turned with a look of complete shock on his face. "How can you say _soon_?"

"I want a ceremony," Berwald told him, looking as hopeful as a child on his birthday, as he waits for a present he longs for.

"But… it won't be a legal ceremony, will it? It's quite illegal –"

"Don't need it to be legal." Berwald's broad hand searched for it's smaller counterpart, Tino's work-calloused hand. "Just for us. That's enough."

"Rather a waste of time and money," Natalya remarked offhandedly.

"No, I think it's a wonderful idea!" Mathias exclaimed, his grin as bright as the warm sun above them. "Something a little more official to show just how bound together you two are!"

"I have my heir," Berwald said decisively. "She's strong. There's nothing to worry about with her. I've done what society expects."

"And now you are free to do as you wish," Lukas concluded, reaching for his notebook and pencil stub. "You and your… companion, Tino? Or will you be _wife_?" he chuckled.

"Never!" Tino laughed. "Companion suits me just fine, I think."

"'Wife' is sweet," mused Berwald quietly, giving Tino another clearly hopeful look. This time Tino didn't bend – he just laughed, almost nervously, and gave him a look in return which clearly said 'we will discuss this later!'.

"Companionship is a beautiful thing," Mathias was rambling, drinking wine and acting the philosopher. "It's all a man needs, really –"

"Or a woman," Lukas didn't hesitate to cut in with, writing quickly in his notebook, ideas pouring onto the page.

" – or a woman! Or anyone! Love is all you need!"

"So cliché," Berwald muttered, squeezing Tino's hand lovingly. Their fingers entwined together, and they stayed like that, two vines around a tree, growing up into beyond and never coming apart.

* * *

**The End**  
_**Written by Lukas Bondevik**_

* * *

**A/N: It's finally done! Thanks to everyone who favourited, reviewed, and followed - I couldn't have gotten it done without you guys! I hope that this epilogue lived up to your hopes! And now that I have these new characters - Erika, Luuk and Hanne - I was wondering if you guys would be interested in reading more about them? Or perhaps the DenNor side of this story? Either way, leave a review to tell me what you think!**

** I especially hope that you're in the mood for more SuFin, since that is what's next on the agenda! A slightly different setting, but same old OTP =3=**

**If you feel like finding me on tumblr, I go by: nirway . tumblr . com  
and my writing tumblr is letterstohanne . tumblr . com!**


	13. Final Note from the Author

**Final Note from the Author**

Now that this story is finished, I'm really keen to write more of this universe, but I'm not sure what! So it's up to you guys. Would you prefer Mathias and Lukas' story, which would be a companion fic, or a sequel to this story with the adolescence of Erika, Luuk and Hanne? Tell me by review or private message - it's up to you guys if end I writing more!


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